


festina lente

by mercurial



Category: Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: M/M, Private School AU, mentions of the other x-kids, no powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurial/pseuds/mercurial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David wants to ace his classes, get a full-ride scholarship to Harvard, tell every old- and new-money snob in his graduating class to go fuck themselves during his valedictorian speech. Tommy just wants to party. They find a surprising overlap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	festina lente

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for underage alcohol use (although no characters are depicted experiencing significant levels of intoxication), brief references to marijuana and cigarettes, and incredible levels of self-indulgence.  
> Originally posted on Tumblr (nearly a year ago, I think) for thinkfast week. Since edited.

     David shouldn’t be here at all. It’s not his fault Mr. Pearson is incompetent. And a _dick_. It wasn’t like David had been _trying_ to humiliate the man when he’d raised his hand to point out he’s been explaining string theory entirely wrong. And he _hadn’t_ implied that anyone who couldn’t explain _basic_ string theory couldn’t be qualified to teach at an institution as prestigious as Wallingford Academy. That was entirely Mr. Pearson’s conjecture. Seriously,  _such_ a _dick_.

     David’s eloquent internal monologuing is interrupted by a crumpled ball of paper whizzing past his left ear and skittering off the edge of his desk. As he blinks bemusedly at the projectile, a second makes impact with the back of his skull.

     David turns to see the platinum blonde boy at the desk behind him bite his lip and fake-whisper, “you wanna get the hell outta here?“

     "Who are you?”

     “Tommy. And you didn’t answer my question, and I asked first.”

     David knows the name, and he ought to know the face too, since he shares it with David’s crush’s boyfriend. Tommy is wearing a rumpled track jacket instead of the Wallingford blazer — it clashes horribly with his uniform tie — and a cocky grin. David hopes he comes across as sizing him up rather than checking him out. “Why?”

     “Because sitting in detention blows?”

     David smiles at that. “No, why are you asking _me_ to ditch detention with you?”

     “Because you’re at least two grade levels more interesting than anyone else here.” It’s a fair assessment, David can concede, given that the library is mostly full of freshman who have yet to figure out which teachers bother to take role. “Also, I bet you’re cute when don’t look like you’re dying.”

* * *

     From their position under the bleachers, David can appreciate the tight fit of Teddy Altman’s football uniform over his ass while the coach calls drills and Tommy continues expounding. “Billy’s friends are nice and all, but they’re so _uptight_. Kate’s great but she’s never on campus anymore and she’s the only one who can make Eli forget the _enormous_ stick up his ass for more than five minutes. Which is why no one was willing to ditch that stupid pep rally with me and I got caught and stuck in detention alone. What’d you do?”

     “I _kinda_ got into an argument with Pearson in the middle of physics. I _kinda_ said he wasn’t fit to teach kindergartners, let alone an AP class.”

     Tommy nods approvingly. “Nice, man.”

     “And then I said it again in front of Dean Whelk. It just used to feel like he wanted to help me, you know? Offered to let me take whichever accelerated classes I wanted, gave me a full ride scholarship. But last semester, I was going through some… things. My grades slipped from "exceptional” to “above average” and suddenly they were threatening to kick me out. They don’t _care_ about any of us. They just want my SAT score to tout against the national average.“

     “Dude.” Tommy knocks their shoulders together. “You have _got_ to chill out.” David’s doubtfulness, like most things, apparently, leaves Tommy completely unaffected. “Kate’s having a party tonight, let’s go.”

     “I can’t, I still have to write that history paper for Singh.”

     "Life’s too short to spend it writing essays on old dead white guys. You should catch the next one.”

* * *

     It’s a little past midnight by the time David’s rubbing at his eyes and revising the last five hundred words of his essay. He’s drowsy and craving his bed when his phone chimes. The text is from an unknown number, and when David opens it, consists of a photo Tommy had taken of himself, waving his shirt around his head, presumably dancing on someone else’s coffee table. There’s no accompanying message. It’s an innocent enough picture, just Tommy’s grinning face, off-center and slightly out of focus, and the tops of his bare shoulders. No reason for David to stare at it until the screen dims. No reason for David to save the picture to his phone’s memory. No reason for David to think about it while Facebook messaging Laurie in bed, and for his cheeks to go hot at the memory. None at all.

* * *

     At lunch the next day, Tommy is leaning next to his locker, texting at warp speed. He looks up as David approaches, his fingers never slowing. "Hey, wanna get noodles?”

     David doesn’t know how Tommy found out where his locker is, but he nods anyway. “Alright.”

     They order chow mein from a middle-aged Korean man at the “authentic Chinese” place a half block from school and sit at the plastic tables outside. Tommy tells him about his friends and his dick teachers and his hot teachers and his upcoming court date for getting caught smoking weed in a public park. Normally David would feel resentful, at least a little, at how nonchalantly Tommy can talk about the possibility of a misdemeanor, but he’s caught up in Tommy’s story: of attempting to make a gravity bong out of a Gatorade bottle and a left over container of curry, of the guy who sold them the weed showing up and stealing his friend’s phone, of chasing the guy straight into a cop, gravity bong in hand. David’s heart barely catches when he complains about how disgustingly in love Tommy’s twin and his boyfriend are. Tommy doesn’t stop talking, not even with a mouth full of noodles, not even during the walk back, and David feels completely at ease.

* * *

     Tommy shows up at his locker the next day, and the next, until getting lunch together becomes routine. Sometimes they walk to the nearest Starbucks and David makes fun of Tommy’s five-paragraph drink orders, until he tries a sip and has to admit, grudgingly, that maybe Tommy’s lattes are worth the time they take to recite. Sometimes they walk back to the convenient Chinese place. And sometimes take Tommy’s car downtown and dare each other to order from the weirdest food carts they can find. David tries not to think about how fast Tommy must drive for them to get back to class on time, but somehow, they always make it.

* * *

     Kate is having another party. Kate has parties at least once a month, presumably out of the sense of obligation instilled in very rich teenagers with very absent parents, and they instigate a set pattern of events. In the two or three days before, word passes throughout the student body, a low level buzz of excitement, until the day of, when it spills over into cutting class and pre-gaming out of anticipation. David doesn’t know the details of the nights themselves, but he witnesses the washed and hungover results the next morning. Their presence in David’s, and much of Wallingford Academy’s population’s, life is accepted, invariable, and insignificant.

     This party is significant.

     This party, unlike the dozens before and the potential dozens afterward, David will actually be going to.

     It would be easier to accept if he could pretend Tommy bullied him into it, but the conversation David replays in his mind goes something more like this:

     “There’s another of Kate’s parties tonight. You’re coming to this one, right?”

     David dislikes music composed primarily of two alternating lyrics and a bass line, played at a nausea-inducing volume. David dislikes cheap booze. David dislikes having to actively blend in among Wallingford kids’ showy displays of wealth. “Yeah, sure.”

* * *

     Tommy laughs at his outfit when he picks him up at ten — “going with the retired English professor look, _nice_ ” — but David doesn’t feel embarrassed, just tousles Tommy’s hair as he climbs into the passenger seat and tries to limit the number of times he tells Tommy to watch his speed.

     Tommy parks a block away but it’s already obvious the party’s well under way. They walk up together, shoulders brushing, but Tommy’s snow-white hair is engulfed into the crowd the minute they get inside, and David can see him seconds later climbing onto the Bishop family’s dining room table to dance with Kate herself. He retreats into the kitchen in attempt to figure out what everyone is drinking tonight.

* * *

     Teddy greets him with a grin like sun-warmed honey when he sees David in the kitchen. He’s cracking open a Pabst Blue Ribbon and passes one to David when he comes into reach. “Hey, man, never thought I’d see you at one of these things.”

     “Tommy asked me to come.” David sips the beer to hide that he flushes at that, even though he has no reason to.

     “Yeah, well, where’s your boyfriend at now? Billy was looking for him earlier.”

     “Wha — my who?”

     “Tommy? You know, your boyfriend?”

     David laughs. Who knows where that rumor came from. “I’m not dating Tommy.”

     Teddy (sweet, gorgeous Teddy), blinks at him. “What do you mean you’re not dating Tommy?”

     “I mean, ‘I am not dating Tommy.’” The suggestion doesn’t seem as funny anymore.

     Teddy regards him with uncharacteristic suspicion. “Have you told Tommy that you’re not dating Tommy?”

     Normally, Teddy’s naïvety struck David as sweet, but this is making his stomach churn in unpleasant ways. “I don’t need to tell him that. Why would Tommy ever think we’re _dating_?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but the accusation is not mixing well with the PBR.

     “You go out to lunch together every day. He posts on your Facebook wall, like, once an hour, according to Billy he never shuts up about you. Jeez, you’re _here_ , at one of Kate’s parties, which you never come to, because he asked… are you sure you shouldn’t be having this conversation with Tommy?” 

     “We’re _friends_ ,” David protests, but quietly.

* * *

     When Teddy gives him a brief tour of the house — just the downstairs bathrooms and the back porch, where groups of kids are huddled around cigarettes and the odd joint, really —David doesn’t even notice how beautiful he is. He goes off in search of Billy and David goes back to loitering in the kitchen, making idle chit-chat with the people coming back with empty cups and beer cans. Laurie coaxes him onto the dance floor for half hour, but he leaves when he realizes he keeps scanning the room for signs of Tommy. He’s found himself tucked into the doorframe to the kitchen, in the perfect spot to people-watch while also not having to move to reach for refills, when Tommy reappears, laughing with flushed cheeks and a little sweaty from the heat of the crowd. David sips his beer thoughtfully, “I thought you were dancing with Kate.”

     Tommy grins wider. “Aw, don’t be jealous. America cut in.” And, _oh_. Maybe they are dating. They’re together at an outrageous party and David’s four beers have turned Tommy’s smile mesmerizing and they’re probably dating, so it’s probably okay if David leans in, just a little, to press his lips to Tommy’s. They’re a little chapped, but still soft, and Tommy’s eyes shoot open and he jerks back and, _oh god, he was_ wrong _. They’re not dating_.

     “Hey, what are you —” Then his eyes move past David and he half-shouts, “is that _Eli_? What’s Eli doing here?” David watches Tommy launch himself back into the crowd holding an empty blue Solo cup and feeling like an idiot.

* * *

     David feels worse when he remembers Tommy drove him here, and had offered to drive him back.  Tommy’s offer to drive also means that he’s _sober_ , which means there’s no chance David will be lucky enough that Tommy will forget what happened to half a dozen glasses of jungle juice. He wants to go home, pass out in his bed and wake up without the buzz and, hopefully, without quite so much shame. He knows Josh and Nori wouldn’t begrudge him a ride, but he’d rather not go there. Besides, he should at least tell Tommy he’s leaving before he runs away. He could text him, but he can’t remember if Tommy brought his phone.

     David has made his way through less than half of the sprawling downstairs, praying that Tommy didn’t vanish upstairs with someone, when Kate emerges behind him. “There you are, c’mon, we’re getting breakfast.” It’s scarcely midnight at she’s already ditching her own party. She tugs at his arm, smiling. “America’s driving, so we better go before she leaves without us.”

     “Um,” David responds, eloquently.

     “C’mon, it already took me forever to find you, Tommy said you were in the kitchen.” This time David lets her pull him along.

     America is leaning against Kate’s BMW when they get outside, arms folded across the front of the American flag printed on her shirt. David likes her immediately, for her sense of humor if nothing else. The others loiter around her. “Kate, your car seats _five_.”

     Kate frowns at a moment as she takes a headcount, then shrugs. “Boys, double up the back,” she suggests helpfully, and hops into the passenger side.

     Teddy pulls Billy onto his lap, and Eli scowls, “If anyone thinks they’re sitting on me, they’ve got another thing coming.”

     “You’re stuck with bitch seat then,” Billy teases as Eli squeezes into the backseat.

     “Um,” David repeats. It’s the only thing he’s said in a while. He’s going to say that he should go. He thinks he saw Sophia earlier, and if she’s here then Laurie drove, and Laurie’s practically his neighbor. She wouldn’t mind dropping him off.

     Tommy shoves him lightly towards the car. “You first, then.” David gets in. Tommy clambers on top of him, and he’s a little bony and it’s a lot awkward. Does he wrap his arms around Tommy’s waist? That’s what Teddy and Billy are doing, but Teddy and Billy are actually dating. _Stupid_. Kate’s car lurches forward and David’s arms automatically move around Tommy to steady him, and Tommy just leans back against his chest.

* * *

     They wind up wedged into a booth at a 24/7 pancake house, and Tommy is the only one to order pancakes. David eats his omelet, and listens, and tries not to jostle Tommy too much with his elbow. America and Eli are having a heated discussion about the systematic discrimination of the American justice system, despite the fact that they seem to agree with everything the other is saying. Kate has her head in her hands.

     Billy and Teddy are talking about Dungeons & Dragons and Tommy is on his sixth and final pancake. David accidentally elbows Tommy in the ribs again and winces.

     “Sorry,” he whispers.

     “Sorry about earlier,” Tommy whispers back.

     David blinks at him. “No, it’s okay, I misjudged the situation —”

     “Well, yeah, I didn’t think you really went in for public displays of affection so you like, caught me off guard, and I was a little worried it was because of the beer but I shouldn’t have run off when I saw Eli, he’s just been gone for the last, like, two months and no one told me he was coming back today —”

     David can feel a grin spread across his face as he cuts Tommy off. “Wait, so we’re dating?”

     “What?”

     “I’m just getting a confirmation. We’re actually dating.”

     Tommy’s forehead wrinkles as he stares at David. “Of course we’re dating whywouldyoukissmeifyoudidn’tknowwe’redatinghowcouldyounot _know_?” Tommy looks ready to on for a while, so David presses their mouths together again and this time Tommy leans closer as David laces their fingers together under the table.


End file.
